I grew up carrying two different names, depending on who I’m with. Unlike my siblings who seamlessly used their nicknames at home and at school, I found my nickname “Berry” incongruous and illogical, and tried to keep it a secret from classmates, teachers, and friends.
I recall desperately rubbing out my name off a kiddie notebook that my mom marked with “Berry Florido” in really large letters– think: font size 36. That was in 2nd grade. Alas, the 6-year old in me had no idea how to wipe off Pentel pen permanent markers and so I cringed a day later when one teacher asked, “Who is Berry?”
I grew up using “Christine” and felt like a “Christine” all throughout my teens and adult life. At home, though, I was still “Berry” along with my siblings: “Apple”, “Cherry”, “Peachy”, “Orange”, “Pears” and “Kiwi”. Turns out that my parents were a bunch of sweet lovers who enjoyed having children (I am one of 11 children). While Mom and Dad gave us girls really nice legal names, they thought it sweet to name us after cute fruits.
I had a case of nickname envy growing up. I thought my sisters’ fruity names were better. Why? I looked around and discovered other kids called “Apple”, “Cherry”, and “Peachy”. But “Berry”? Nada. It didn’t help that “Berry” had a vitamin deficiency disease for a homonym. At one time, someone misspelled the vowel and made it worse by calling me “Barry”.
Fast forward to adult life, I figured that using my not-so-ordinary nickname online could help me balance my social media profile on Facebook. If anyone found me on Facebook, they had to know me from way back and know me well. This was an added screen to my selective process of approving friend requests.
What about you? Do you like your nickname?
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